Rosebud American Kitchen and Bar

If you’ve ever been here before, you know that I fucking love to the point of marrying despite not really seeing the point of marriage as state institution because isn’t there better and just as cheap ways to get all those protections? The Painted Burro. They do the best damn Mexican brunch I’ve ever had, and if we can’t think of a place to go and are the same timezone as Davis Square I will suggest going there. I bring this up because the same guy who owns PB owns Rosebud, an adorable diner right next door. When I heard this I knew I had to try their brunch, if only in an effort to have two restaurants I would want to drive several hours for, should I somehow be kidnapped and wake up in the political wasteland of New Hampshire.

I found instead a decent brunch place. Which is fine, but after the Burro I was expecting “fuck yeah!”s and “holy shits!” all over the place. There was only one plate served to us that was that exact thing, so I’m going to completely ignore the okay french toast and acceptable omelet that Talls and I had and just devote this post to the one shining, unfuckingbelievable glory of this meal:

HUSHPUPPIES SENT FROM LOUISVILLE.

Did you hear the angels playing horns out of their asses to the glory of these hush puppies? If you didn’t I guess you’re a boring food-hating dickwad or something. Or maybe you haven’t seen a lot of illuminated manuscripts. One of those.

To begin, aside from the bacon and scallion amazingness that just cranks these fuckers up to eleven, these are just well made hushpuppies. What are hushpuppies, you say? One of the fine fried fruits of the South, my friend! It’s a ball of fried cornmeal batter. When well done they are crisp on the outside, warm and a little crumbly on the inside, and have never been polluted by the racist horror that is that bitch Paula Deen. These hushpuppies are well done. AND THEN they also have diced bacon and scallions inside that manage to add just the right amount of flavor without taking over from the down home corn taste. AND THEN they give a fucking pineapple-chili glaze to dip them in so that your tastebuds explode with delight and you are ruined for deliciousness for the rest of your life.

I can’t, you guys. I can’t even. Look how little I’ve sworn in this entry! Do you know why that is? It’s because I’m dazzled by the goddamn memory of these little nuggets of perfection. Ugh. I don’t give a fuck if you grew up with hushpuppies or you’ve never had them in your life: get your ass to Rosebud and eat as many of these things as you can. Get a drink. Take a pie home, since they get good pie reviews and honestly any place that does hushpups well likely bakes a fine-ass pie. The rest of the menu isn’t bad, but these balls of deliciousness are too amazing to waste your time eating anything else.